


A flat known as Mordhaus

by Duckgomery



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Multi, Murderface is Murderface, Nathan likes to sit back and watch the world burn, Pickles is a man of many talents, Skwisgaar hates that he's the babysitter, Teenage Dirtbags AU, Toki needs a babysitter or at least adult supervision
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duckgomery/pseuds/Duckgomery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Hey, Nate. Well, first off, surprise! I'm back in town. Second, can I crash on ya couch for the night? Third, I'm not alone and it ain't a lay.' Pickles lists off with overly rounded words that are further emphasised by his current state of intoxication. Considering the hour, Nathan would have assumed his  friend would have been on the less coherent end of the spectrum but who knew, maybe living the rock-star life in Los Angeles had straightened the guy out somewhat.</p>
<p>In which Dethklok haven't overtaken Belgium in terms of economic power. In fact, it's hard to be a major economic power when you're barely in your twenty's and you spend more money on booze than rent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A flat known as Mordhaus

**Author's Note:**

> Whelp, here we have another attempt of a multi-chapter fic. Have a rough plan for this, but as we all know 'the best plans of mice and men often go astray' so we'll see how this shapes up. Changed the narrative and writing style up a bit to hope get a better angle of the mood or whatever. Yeah. First time attempting an AU for Metalocalypse, but there isn't nearly enough of them out there so why not try and add to the numbers?

 'I hate you.' Despite it being only two in the morning, Nathan had been fast asleep and wasn't overly appreciative of being woken up by his phone, no matter who it was on the other end.

'Hey, Nate. Well, first off, surprise! I'm back in town. Second, can I crash on ya couch for the night? Third, I'm not alone and it ain't a lay.' Pickles lists off with overly rounded words that are further emphasised by his current state of intoxication. Considering the hour, Nathan would have assumed his friend would have been on the less coherent end of the spectrum but who knew, maybe living the rock-star life in Los Angeles had straightened the guy out somewhat.

'Sure, though heads up, Skwisgaar's on the rag or something at the moment but won't admit it. Like, wow. I think he's still pacing and grumbling, which is what he's been doing all night.'

'When ain't he a bitch? I'll be there in a few, just 'round the corner. Bye bye.' Pickles finished with high spirits, enough that Nathan's had been lifted on the other end of the line, which was a pretty impressive feat considering the current circumstances.

'Skwisgaar, Pickles is back, well, is about to be.' Nathan stumbled out into the lounge room where his friend and roommate was listlessly plucking away at the strings of his fifth limb, commonly known as a guitar. 'You look like shit.' No question needed.

'Ja, what abouts.' The blond's voice was as flat as his hair, and despite Nathan's own low standards in personal hygiene, his room-mate was in desperate need of a shower.

'Well, maybe clean up or something?'

'It's only Pickles, plus the place be spotsless.' Rather than using his arms for emphasis, Skwisgaar instead opts to raise his left leg and wave it about as much as he can be bothered, bringing the beer can pyramid, coffee table with the food remains permanently caked into the chipped surface, and the stained carpet, heavy with rubbish and fast food containers into light.

'Yeah, but when Pickles lights up anywhere near you your hair's going to flame up, which would be totally cool to watch, but I don't want to deal with your bitching.'

Skwisgaar pauses his playing in order to grab a fist of hair and bring it to his nose. Hesitation crosses his face as he pulls out a scratched up phone from his pants. How he managed to fit it in the pocket, no one knows.

'Leave the phone out here and wash. If it rings, I'll let you know.'

'But-'

'No.'

'Whats if-'

Any further protest was cut off by Nathan's infamous glare that either scared those on the receiving end into doing what he wanted, or made the resilient few realise that he was too stubborn to be bothered arguing further. It was a good look to have.

Tossing the phone over to Nathan on his way to the bathroom, fresh jeans and towel held under one arm, Skwisgaar disappeared for a much shorter time than he usually took for his personal grooming. As soon as he stepped out, towel draped over his shoulders, damp hair tousled and already forming into waves from the quick towel dry, Nathan tossed the phone back. Skwisgaar checked the screen once, twice, and left for his room on the third refresh of the device.

The door to the third and final bedroom in the apartment remained firmly shut, as it had been since Murderface had announced that he was going out to get with some chicks. This meant he was staying over at Dick's until the morning so he could do his walk of 'shame'. As such, the early morning silence was free of snoring and loud commentary of late night television so Nathan was more or less content.

'At least say hi when Pickles gets here. Don't be a bitch.' Nathan called out, smiling to himself as he could just feel the middle finger Skwisgaar was flipping him from his room.

Several minutes passed before Nathan heard stumbling feet punctuated by a body hitting the wall every few steps. Pickles was close. Deciding to not leave it to Pickles to find the doorbell, something his friend could never really do once intoxicated, Nathan got up off the couch with a groan from the piece of furniture and stomped as delicately as he could , because Nathan was a courteous neighbour, over to the door. Swinging it open he was greeted with the shock of red hair, and as he looked down he saw the smeared eye-make-up, crooked smile, and artfully derelict outfit of the one and only Pickles. And a drunk kid leaning heavily onto Pickles.

'Sorry, Nate, gotta have to rush in. Kid's gonna blow.' Pickles announced with too much enthusiasm, pushing past in order to haul the kid into the bathroom. Knowing the exact moment someone was going to blow chunks was one of the many gifts Pickles had been bestowed with. 

Plodding over to lean in the bathroom doorway, Nathan surveyed the scene. Kid looked a wreck, probably a highschooler who got invited to a frat party and got in way over their head. Though thinking about the kind of parties Pickles would frequent raised other questions.

'Easy there, kiddo. Better out than in. Just let it flow.' Pickles crooned helpfully, patting the kid's back. The knuckles gripping the toilet seat were bone white. The kid looked like shit.

'Want anything?'

'Booze?'

'Why is that even a question.' Nathan grumble with a smile, going to fetch a six pack of the good-but-not-great stuff from the fridge. Cans in hand, Nathan decides that now would be a good time to bang on Skwisgaar's door. May as well invite the other guy in the apartment to join them for a drink and everything.

'Whats?' Skwisgaar huffs as he cracks his door open, having to look down slightly in order to glare at the disturber of his peace. Nathan raises the six-pack slightly, enough to draw attention, as way of explanation. With a final, slightly concerned look at his phone, Skwisgaar opens the door enough to slink past Nathan's frame, pocketing the phone with a fluid motion.

'Beer's on the table.' Nathan announces for all to hear, plonking down on the couch and cracking the can open with a grunt.

'Better save one for me, jackass.' Pickles calls out from the bathroom. The sounds of heaving are fewer and further between.

Deciding to be polite, Skwisgaar makes his way over to the bathroom, deciding to get the greeting over and done with. He was well aware that Pickles would be fine in a few, having the miraculous ability to drink like a fish, throw it all up while maintaining his buzz, then go back for seconds. 

'Hej, Pickles. Backs in town I sees-' Any further attempt at conversation from Skwisgaar stopped as soon as he walked through the door.

'Skwis?' The boy bent over the toilet mumbles, raising his head from the bowl and trying to turn around to see the speaker until a wave of nausea crashes over him and he was back at square one.

'Skit.' Skwisgaar steps on over, crouching next to the kid, taking over Pickles role of back rubbing as the boy blubbers and heaves, nothing coming out but pained sounds.

'Guessing you know the kid. Any-who, I think he's mostly done and since you're here, I'm gonna grab a beer.' Pickles slaps Skwisgaar on the back as he pulls himself upright, staggering over to the door.

'Nate, there better still be beer.'

After struggling to clamber over the back of the couch, Pickles takes a seat, beer in hand.

'So, you're back.' Nathan puts simply.

'Sure am.'

They both take a moment to drink and soak in the company that they both kind of missed, not that they would very really admit it.

'Any reason? Thought that glam thing you were doing was going well.'

'Heh, we were alright. Got signed, but those pussies weren't cut out for it.'

'Being faggy rock-stars got to them?'

Pickles leans over to punch Nathan in the shoulder at the comment, crooked smile plastered on his face.

'Nah, that wasn't to bad. The guys let me down, couldn't handle their drugs or booze or anything.'

'And?'

'Well I caught Tony, you remember Tony?'

Nathan remembered Tony, can crumpling slightly in his hand.

'Caught the guy doing heroin.' Pickles continues.

'Didn't think you'd be against that?'

'I'm not, just the fact that he was injecting heroin into his balls. His balls, Nate. Does he have no shame!?'

Nathan couldn't help himself. Starting with a snort he eventually deteriorated into a breathless, laughing mess. Pickles joined him in that until his already smudged eye make-up was seriously running.

'Gotta admit, that wasn't the only reason. Missed you lot to.'

'Yeah?'

'Sluts and high market drugs can only do so much.' Pickles sinks back into the couch.

'How's the kid?'

'Oh, Ikea knows him. Owww.' Pickles whines as Skwisgaar swats the back of his head. 'What was that for?'

'How many times do I has to say to stops calling me thats?' Skwisgaar grumbles as he continues to stride over to his room, alone.

'Did the kid choke?' Nathan inquires helpfully, not feeling curious enough to go check the situation for himself.

'He's got a point. Didn't haul him around just for him the die on us.' Pickles adds.

Skwisgaar walks back out of his room with a slightly damp towel and a fresh set of clothes, joining them in the lounge, taking his seat on the broken recliner with the permanently raised footrest.

'Toki's washing up. Where you finds him, Pickles?'

'Well I heard that Rockso was having a thing, and you know how he has the best coke, so I thought why not. Kid was a riot, drank like a fish and everything. Had to admit I was impressed. Anyway, noticed Rockso walk off with him and a few other guys. Colourful fuck comes back looking freaked, I investigate. Kid's in some room looking like shit, and here we are.” Pickles declares with a lot more cheer than was really appropriate judging by the worried, almost borderline mortified, look Skwisgaar was wearing.

A thud was heard from the bathroom.

'Oh yeah, people were passing pills around like candy.' Pickles added in an attempt to be helpful.

'Fucking candy.' Skwisgaar mutters darkly as he crosses the room in a few strides, towel and clothes still underarm.

'Shit.' Nathan offers as input, weighing up whether or not it would be appropriate to have another drink or not, especially seeing as he was the only one in the house who could drive and wasn't under the influence of god knows what.

 

The kid, Toki, now clothed and towel dried to a state where he isn't dry but not exactly dripping leans heavily into Skwisgaar's side. Once the situation in the bathroom was under control to an extent that no one had to be driven to emergency, Nathan opted for sleeping, leaving Pickles and Skwisgaar to deal with the situation they brought upon themselves, or that's at least how Nathan thought of it.

Seeing as slapping the kid gently on the cheek only made him try and bury further into Skwisgaar, Pickles assessment was that he was doped and drunk as fuck.

'As long as he don't lay down and his breathing stays steady he'll be fine.'

'Ja?'

'Yaah.'

'Thanks, Pickles. Can't believe you founds him.' Pickles looked up to really look at Skwisgaar and realised that his friend looked the kind of tired that didn't come from being up at what must have been three in the morning at least.

'What can I say, I'm like part Irish so I'm lucky 'n' shit. Something happen with the kid?'

'Hadn't heards from him for couples of days. Gots worried.'

'You know kids, probably got grounded or something. Nothing to worry about.'

'You cans sleep in my rooms if you wants. Thinks I'll stay outs here with Toki.' Skwisgaar is quick to change the topic.

'You sure?'

'Ja.'

'Was that a yawn or an answer?' Pickles smiles, managing to get a small chuckle out of Skwisgaar before standing and stretching. 'Well, I'll see you both when I'm awake, I guess. Night.' The only response from the other two Pickles gets is a hum from Skwisgaar and a whine from Toki. As Pickles nears Skwisgaar's bedroom door, he swore he could hear faint murmuring from behind him, but the words were lost to him in the hushness and foreignness they were spoken in.

Skwisgaar's room was at a contrast to the rest of the apartment. Where outside there was clutter, rubbish, and food stains, inside was relatively controlled. A decent size bed took up the majority of the floor space, it wasn't that big a room, but other than the few pictures stuck to the walls, there was nothing in terms of personalisation other than the faux fur blanket draped over the bottom of the bed. Making his way to the head of the bed, Pickles looked closer at the pictures closest to him. One that caught his eye was pretty old judging by the terrible bowl cut Skwisgaar was sporting. Despite the ridiculous hair-cut that all mother's seemed to force on their kids when they're younger, Pickles realised that Skwisgaar wasn't alone in the picture, though he was definitely the most prominent figure in it. To Skwisgaar's side there was a small, stick of a boy with mousy brown hair who looked out of the picture with a worried smile. Skwisgaar looked bored.

It was only once Pickles got comfortable under the covers after he'd turned off the nearby lamp that he realised that the kid in the picture looked fairly similar to the kid curled into Skwisgaar's side on the couch.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god, dialogue with accents is hard.
> 
> Love it? Let me know.  
> Hate it? Even more reason to let me know.  
> Any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated at this stage of the game.


End file.
